In Sickness and in Health
by austenfan22
Summary: Lizzy wakes in a strange room to find Mr. Darcy present with no memory of how she came to be there.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is a plotline that has been done before, but it always fascinates me. I'm not completely sure what will happen along the way of this story, but I'm looking forward to finding out. Nervous to share this with you all, but please share your input and reviews as new ideas are helpful since this story is not yet fully written. :)**

 **Enjoy! And remember, I am not Jane Austen and do not own any of these characters.**

The pitter patter of rain outside the window was the first noise she became aware of. A dull ache in the back of her head encouraged her to keep her eyes closed, enjoying the quiet of a wet afternoon. A deep breath brought in the pleasing aroma of lavender; her maid must had distributed some of the herb in her room. She reached for the pillow at her side, turning toward it with a yawn. As she moved onto her belly, it immediately became apparent the position would not be feasible. A jerk from within her abdomen caused her to sit straight up in bed. Lizzy yanked the bedcovers off of her and gasped. _Calm._ She told herself. _I must be calm._ Her abdomen was firm and rounded, the movement within unmistakable.

 _No._ She blew out a breath, ignoring the pounding in her head. _This can't be._ Reaching for her chemise, she dragged it up to her waist and stared. Her skin stretched tight over the bulge within, and angry red marks ran parallel down either side of her belly. She pressed her hand against the mass and again felt movement within. Her breath quickened. _How did this happen?_

"Elizabeth?"

The deep voice startled her, causing her to squint in an attempt to make out the speaker. The man sat in a chair next to the bed, across from where she lay. She knew his voice, but struggled to make out his face. "Mr. Darcy?" Panic rose within her. If she hadn't felt faint before, she most certainly did now.

"Are you well? The child..." His words were soft, but they brought heat immediately to her cheeks. She pushed her chemise down quickly, then pulled the bedcovers up over her chest.

"What are you doing here?" Where was the sense in this situation? The pain in her head. The unfamiliar room. A child within her belly. Mr. Darcy in her bedchamber. What was the meaning of this?

He glanced out the window, his brow furrowed and lips curled into a frown. For several long moments he didn't speak, just stared out into the dreary sky beyond the house. At last, he turned his head and met her eyes. "I am your husband."

"I have never married." The words stumbled out before she had put much thought into them. In such odd circumstances, she really couldn't say what she had or had not done. She couldn't remember anything which would have led her to sitting in bed across from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy on a rainy day.

"We married last fall. It will be a year next month." His dark eyes fell to her abdomen, then met hers again. "You have two months yet for your confinement."

She wanted to say something else, but she couldn't think of what to ask. There were too many questions, her situation too disturbing to try to understand. A glance at her hand revealed a gold ring around her third finger. Closing her eyes, she reached a hand toward her aching head. _Breathe._ She reminded herself. _I must breathe._ A kick in her belly diminished her determination to be calm, but she sought another deep breath.

A hand on her shoulder startled her out of the self-imposed therapy. "Is there much pain? Perhaps you ought to lie down."

Lizzy could hardly argue. Though as he reached for the bedcovers to assist her, she grabbed his wrist. "I am more than competent in putting myself to bed."

He dropped his hand, his gaze never wavering from her face. "Of course, my apologies. Please, rest. I will have a cup of tea brought."

Lizzy slid down in the bed, turning onto her side and watching him as he moved across the room to ring for the maid. He was taller than she remembered, though perhaps that was because she had never been so near him before. Of course, she had never had the desire to be so close to him. His attire was of the finest quality, but she detected wrinkles throughout his trousers and waistcoat which suggested he had spent some hours sitting in the chair at her side. His cravat was not straight, and his dark hair was tousled, more disheveled than she had ever seen him before. He turned away from the bell, moving back toward the bed.

"Please, sir," Lizzy hesitated. Was she in his house? Did she have any right to make a request?

"What is it?" He asked, inclining his head toward her as he bent toward the bed.

"Please go; leave me be." She turned her face away. She hoped he would listen to her, but she knew enough about this man to presume he would do as he pleased.

"Yes... I shall leave you with your maid. If you should need anything, please ask for me. Perhaps when you feel some strength returning... I might answer some of your questions."

"Very well." She desperately needed some answers for her own piece of mind. The child within her jerked in agreement.

* * *

When Elizabeth opened her eyes again, the pounding in her brain had subsided along with the rain. Sun shone in through the window, low in the sky as the day was nearing its end. Thankfully, a quick survey of the room revealed it to be empty. Mr. Darcy had honored her wish, and left her be. She sat up slowly, one hand pressing against her belly for support. She sat with her feet over the edge of the bed. The child within her was now still, but she was very aware of its presence.

She was now at a loss; she couldn't very well walk out of the room in her chemise, and she wasn't sure she was even up for that. Her stomach gurgled, and Lizzy idly wondered if someone would be bringing her dinner. Pushing herself to her feet, she moved toward the window. A bench was crafted into the design, and she easily slid onto the cushion to gaze outside. The sight which greeted her was beautiful. Rolling hills, wide open, green fields, and trees in a wooded area beyond. The sun hung low in the sky, vibrantly coloring the world with hues of pink, orange and blue. The view soothed her. Nothing about it was familiar, yet it brought a semblance of peace.

A soft knock sounded at her door. "Yes, come in." She invited.

A young maid entered the room, carrying a tray in her hands. "Would you care for some dinner, Mrs. Darcy?"

The title was startling. She stumbled over her words in response. "Y..yeesss. Yes. I very much would."

"Would you like to take it in the sitting room? The master asked if you would join him there." The maid bobbed her head toward the door at the side of her room.

Lizzy had never imagined she might wish to dine alone with Mr. Darcy, in a private sitting room no less, but she had many questions which needed answered. "I might ask if there is perhaps something else I might wear." She indicated the thin chemise she sat in. "Tis not proper for me to meet him in only my nightclothes."

The maid nodded and curtsied quickly, "Of course, ma'am. Let me just set this down, and I will help you dress."

The young woman was true to her word, and quickly picked out a simple dress for her to wear. Lizzy pulled her chemise off and handed it to the maid. Standing in front of the long mirror, she was able to have a full view of the changes which the child within her had brought about. Everything about her body seemed larger, fuller. She ran her hands across her belly, turning to the side to see how large her abdomen had become. She was fascinated, but also embarrassed. As the maid offered her a new dress, Lizzy quickly turned away from the mirror and allowed herself to be put together. Her hair was pinned up in a simple style, then her maid stepped aside.

"I believe the master is ready for you, ma'am."

"Thank you...I'm sorry, your name?"

"Baxter, ma'am. Jenny Baxter."

"Thank you, Baxter." Her maid curtsied and left her.

Lizzy stood at the large, interconnecting door with her hand on the knob. Oh, how she wished Jane were with her. Then she wouldn't have to face the man behind this door. And yet, if he was to be believed, he was her husband. She must listen to him, believe him, obey him. It was clear she had allowed privileges with her body to _someone_ , though she could hardly imagine having said yes to Mr. Darcy even if she _had_ somehow agreed to marry him. Her cheeks grew warm at the thought. Though a child was clearly growing and thriving inside of her, she had no recollections of the intimacies which had brought it about. Shaking her head to clear the thought, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Mr. Darcy was standing next to the window, his gaze fixed on the country side as she stepped into the room. As soon as he heard the door open, he turned and walked towards her. "Elizabeth." He stopped when he was a few steps away. "How are you faring?" His dark eyes were intent on hers, causing her some degree of unease.

Lizzy swallowed, looking away. "I am alright, sir, under these unique circumstances. I must confess to being a bit disconcerted, as I hardly remember what events would have led to my current situation."

"Come, sit." He gestured toward the small table at the far side of the room.

Lizzy attempted to hide her irritation that grew by his familiar demanding tone, as she recognized the sense in sitting down to eat. She followed him to the table, and allowed him to pull out her chair. He took the seat next to hers and waited for her to begin on her meal before he did likewise.

"I am at your disposal to answer any questions you may have. What do you remember?" He picked up his fork and began to cut into the roast on his plate.

"I remember nothing that would lead me to be sitting across from you, heavy with child." The words came once again without much forethought, and Lizzy felt her cheeks grow warm as she realized what she had eluded to. Darcy said nothing in reply to that, perhaps at a loss himself as to how to address such a sensitive topic, so she quickly added. "Charlotte. I remember being at the parsonage in Hunsford. You were visiting your aunt, but I daresay I have never had any sort of design on you as a marriage partner."

Darcy cleared his throat, "Yes." He seemed to be searching for the right words. "I came to the parsonage when you stayed behind from dining at Rosings. I asked for your hand in marriage that night."

"And I consented?" Lizzy couldn't keep the shock out of her voice. A thought suddenly struck her. "Oh no, my father... Is he... Did something happen to him?"

A clatter sounded as his knife hit his plate. "Excuse me." He set his cutlery down and pushed himself back in his chair, away from the table. He looked as if he might run back for the window. Instead, his dark eyes met hers. "Your father is, and has been, in excellent health as far as I am aware."

She nodded, understanding his frustration with her question. It suggested that she would only marry him under dire circumstances, for his name and protection alone. "I... forgive me. Please, do you know why I accepted you?"

"I understand your shock, Elizabeth. Forgive my unease. Much time has passed since we have discussed this. You once told me that we ought only remember the past as it brings us pleasure."

Lizzy's eyebrows rose, "Well that may be, however I cannot remember that past at all! How, then, am I to determine which brings me pleasure and which does not?"

"Of course you are correct." A heavy sigh left his lips.

Silence hung between them, seeming to stretch on and on. Lizzy focused on her plate, slowly cutting her food and taking small bites. He had given her only the smallest hint of an explanation. She saw it was hard for him to speak of, but she didn't understand why. Surely her could see it was more difficult for her to sit before him with no memory of the past? She had only his word to believe, though she couldn't imagine an alternative explanation that might satisfy her. She might have tried to deny his claim to their marriage had it not been for the obvious fact that she had been with _some_ man. Women did not create babies on their own.

"It is difficult for me to speak of. This last year, we have so rarely discussed our history. You did not consent to become my wife when I asked at the parsonage. By point of fact, you claimed I was the last man you could possibly be compelled to marry."

Lizzy's eyes widened. "Then I was compromised?" The implications of the thought brought her to her feet, pushing back her chair. "I've always thought little of you, sir, but this... it has lowered my opinion all the more. You can be no gentleman."

She moved forward to sweep past him, but he was on his feet and had grabbed a hold of her arm before she could. "Elizabeth, stop."

She huffed, "I suppose I must listen to you because you've married me now? You'll demand everything from me, then? Even this?" She gestured to her rounded abdomen.

"I don't care if you think of me as a gentleman or not at this moment, I am your husband. Now sit down." He didn't grip her arm to the point of pain, but his hand was around her wrist firmly, unrelenting.

She shrugged away from him, but he only moved his arm to her shoulder so that he could guide her to sit near the fire. She sat on the edge of the sofa, hoping for an opportunity to leave the room.

"This will make you uncomfortable, but I feel it has need to be said. You married for love, Elizabeth. I will explain the full story if you will but give me a moment. Now, concerning this child that you are so concerned about. It must make you uneasy, not being able to remember our time in the marriage bed. You must feel imposed upon, but let me assure you Elizabeth that I have never imposed my will upon you in that regard. You were as pleased as I to discover you were with child."

Elizabeth's cheeks flamed with the heat of her embarrassment. "I cannot believe you would talk to me about... that." She put a hand to her face and covered her eyes.

Mr. Darcy used this as an invitation to continue. "I would talk to you about that, and more, Elizabeth. Since the day I took vows to you, I have never withheld my thoughts from you. You have been privy to every idea, every joy, even every fear since we were wed. You were the same with me before that stupid horse of yours kicked you in the head."

Elizabeth moved her hand, gazing up at him. "I don't understand you. I cannot... you were always so arrogant and what you did to Wickham..."

"I never treated Wickham in a dishonorable way. In fact, I made him to marry your sister Lydia after she ran off with him."

Here Elizabeth was silent. She couldn't believe the statement he had made, nor could she believe the conversation of the last half hour. It was pieces of information, too disjointed for her to understand the full picture. Had she then married him out of gratitude, which he mistook for love? Though it was difficult to imagine she would lie to a man, even Mr. Darcy, regarding her true feelings.

"I must retire." She stood. "My head... this is too much."

Instantly he was at her side, taking her arm in his. "Of course, let me assist you."

He had been so imposing of his will on her this evening that she could not deny him on this point, but let him lead her to her chambers. He settled her onto the edge of her bed, then moved to ring for the maid. Before he left through the interconnecting door between their rooms, he turned to her. "I may have said all manner of wrong things this evening, but please know this. I love you, Elizabeth, most ardently." With that he turned and left her room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! I know, I know. It has been waaaaaaaaay too long since I posted the first chapter. Life has been** ** _very_** **busy. And, despite having some wonderful reviews and very encouraging readers, I have been quite nervous about posting another chapter. Is the plot good enough? Is this story interesting? Is any of this accurate of the era?**

 **At long last, I decided to get past my insecurities and finish another chapter just for the fun of writing it. I don't know exactly where this is going, but new ideas definitely came while I was writing. Please feel welcome to share your input and suggestions. I don't want to make any promises, but I do hope to be posting more often. (Do all authors on here say that? ;)**

 **Enjoy! Remember, I am not Jane Austen.**

The flame of the candle winked out, leaving Elizabeth in darkness. The aching in her head had diminished, but her mind would not quiet. Despite having informed Mr. Darcy that she needed to rest, she could not stop the thoughts within her own mind. Rather than pondering his words of love, Lizzy considered his fleeting comment regarding her sister Lydia and Mr. Wickham. What were the exact words he had said?

 _"_ _I made him to marry your sister Lydia after she ran off with him."_

It was not incredibly shocking to Elizabeth that Lydia might have run off with an officer. But it was surprising that Mr. Wickham might be that officer. Why was it that Mr. Wickham, such a congenial man, needed to be forced by Mr. Darcy to marry Lydia? That is, if Mr. Darcy's version of events was to be believed. The last Elizabeth had been aware, Mr. Wickham was courting Miss King. But why would Mr. Darcy lie about such a thing? Surely he knew she could discover the truth if she wrote to Jane to inquire about the details of his claim.

Lizzy huffed and threw off the bedcovering, pushing herself to her feet. "You certainly don't make anything very comfortable." She announced to the child, currently lying still within her. She ran her hands up and down her abdomen. What a strange feeling, to hold life within her. This was what young ladies were raised for, marrying a well-off gentleman and bearing his heirs. But to skip the excitement of courtship, that first flush of love, and be found wed to a man she could hardly tolerate…

What would it be like to bring this new life into the world? Married ladies never spoke of their confinements in the drawing room, with young unwed ladies present. Elizabeth knew there must be pain, but she had very little idea of what she might compare to the birthing process. Who would be there when the time came? Lizzy thought of her Aunt Gardiner and hoped she might be willing to be at her side for such an event.

Determined to write her aunt in the morning, Lizzy slipped her legs beneath the bedcovers once again. Smiling to herself, Lizzy shook her head. "Just yesterday I was thinking of how to avoid the pleasure of Lady Catherine's company. Today I'm creating a list of necessities for the birth of my first child." With a final sigh, she settled down to sleep.

* * *

"Mrs. Darcy."

Roused by the voice and a hand which rested on her arm, Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes. A young woman stood before her, looking vaguely familiar. "You are missus…" As the reality of the prior day's events washed over her, Lizzy sat upright. "Yes, I am missus Darcy, of course."

"Ma'am, the midwife is here to see you and the master has asked me to inform you that the doctor has been sent for as well." Her lady's maid didn't move, simply stood waiting for further instruction.

"Would you help me dress before sending in the midwife?" Lizzy had no desire to see either the midwife or the doctor, especially in her present state.

"Of course, ma'am." The woman went about her task quickly, and it was only minutes later that the midwife entered her bedchamber.

"Mrs. Darcy, a pleasure to see you again. I am Mrs. Gresham" The midwife dipped into a curtsy, pushing a curl of graying hair out of her face as she stood. "Mr. Darcy summoned me before you had awoken, but it is good to see you well again. I hope you are recovered this morning."

"Please, have a seat." Lizzy gestured for the chair at the bed's side which Darcy had occupied the day before. "I am as well as can be expected. Yesterday, I experienced quite the shock to wake up and find myself thus." She ran her hand along the bulge of her abdomen. The action was calming and seemed oddly familiar.

"Ah, yes, the memory loss. Mr. Darcy informed me of that as well. I am sure it is quite a shock for a young woman such as you. Is there anything I can do for you to ease the worry? I might answer questions you have." The midwife settled into the chair next to her.

"I seem to have many questions, but now that you have put the question to me, I am not sure what I might say." Elizabeth looked down at her hands. "Is the baby well? Can you determine if there will be any ill effects from my injury?"

Mrs. Gresham's eyes followed Elizabeth's gaze. "Have you felt the child move within you since the incident?"

"Yes, several times."

"Then your child should be healthy. Usually an active child is a good sign. Of course, we will not know anything for certain until the child is born. Have you had any tightenings of the womb?"

Elizabeth looked up at Mrs. Gresham, "I am not sure I would know if I had."

The midwife nodded, her eyes filled with compassion. "Right, of course. My apologies, Mrs. Darcy. I do not wish to make this difficult for you. If you have not been too uncomfortable, I am sure all is well with both you and the baby. Has there been any bleeding that you have noticed?"

Lizzy wished her eyes had not grown as wide as they did when she heard the midwife's question. But she had not considered there may be bleeding associated with bearing a child. "Do you mean blood such as a menses?"

The midwife nodded, "Your menses does not come while you are with child. Should there be any bleeding, you must send for me or the doctor immediately."

Elizabeth simply nodded her head in agreement. "Will there be anything else?"

Mrs. Gresham shook her head slightly, "You and your baby seem to be perfectly fine, physically speaking. Of course, your mind must take its own time to heal." She stood, gave a small curtsy, then turned toward the door. As she opened it, she turned back, "Please, Mrs. Darcy, if you should need anything, you are most welcome to send for me." When she turned to exit, Mr. Darcy stood towering in the doorway.

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Darcy. Your wife and child appear to be quite well. I was just assuring Mrs. Darcy that you may call for me if you have any further concerns."

Mr. Darcy nodded his acknowledgement and moved into the room so the midwife could make her exit. Once she was gone, her turned toward Lizzy who looked up at him expectantly. "Elizabeth. Are you well?"

It was strange for Lizzy to hear words of such concern for her wellbeing from Mr. Darcy's lips. Though the events of the previous day could not be dismissed, it still did not seem to be reality. Her most recent memory of him was when she had admonished him to spend more time in company, that he might endeavor to practice at being more sociable. Pushing aside the memory of him, she replied, "You heard the midwife, Mr. Darcy. Can there be any question as to my wellbeing?"

"I should like to hear the truth from you rather than to trust an alternative source of information." Curiously, it seemed his lips curled into a slight smile rather than the frown she was most used to seeing him wear.

"Then you must be at ease, sir. I am well this morning. The headache I suffered last night has gone, and it seems I truly am as well as can be expected. Yet, my maid informed me you also sent for the doctor?" Her last words were meant as a question.

He moved further into the room and took his seat in the chair he had spent his time in the day before. "Yes, Dr. Leeson should be coming here directly. I sent word last night that you had awoken."

"Did he come just after the… incident?" Lizzy realized she did not know the full story as to how she had acquired the head injury which damaged her memories.

"Yes, though there was not much he said could be done. We simply had to wait." The whisper of a smile that had been on his face was gone now, as though shadowed by darker thoughts.

Lizzy did not want to dwell on what Mr. Darcy must be feeling, though she felt the thought strike her for the first time. Since she had awoken, she had been caught up in the impossibility of it all that she had not stopped to truly consider how difficult this might be for him. "Could you satisfy my curiosity, Mr. Darcy, and tell me how it all happened. What exactly was the incident?"

A knock at the door was revealed to be Lizzy's maid, bringing in some tea and refreshments. She set down her tray, poured tea into Mrs. Darcy's cup only after Mr. Darcy refused some, and asked if there would be anything else. When she was assured nothing more was needed, the maid curtsied and quickly left the room.

Mr. Darcy hadn't spoken during the brief interlude, but once the door was shut again he spoke. "You fell off a horse, and it nearly trampled you when you hit the ground." A grimace was on his face.

"I've never been a fine horsewoman." Lizzy countered.

Mr. Darcy met her gaze. "Precisely the problem. You determined you could ride him without the need of assistance."

"In my state?" She looked down at her bulging abdomen then back at him incredulously. "Surely you would not let me ride a horse with only two months until my confinement!"

"I don't let you do anything, Elizabeth. You choose to do as you please." His eyes bore into hers, but they weren't completely disapproving, more a statement of fact.

Lizzy was about to rush on, but paused at that. The night before he had been so willful, demanding her to listen to him and preventing her from leaving their meal together. Yet, now he seemed to imply that she was allowed to do as she pleased, that he did not control her as she imagined. "And why might I make such a dangerous undertaking?"

Mr. Darcy shook his head, "You felt it necessary to go to where I was visiting our tenants. Mrs. Reynolds believes you had something quite important to share with me." He looked away now, his hands balling into fists in his lap.

"What was this important news I had to rush with to your side?" Her eyebrows rose in disbelief, his story not at all what she had expected.

He suddenly stood, moving to the window. It was a familiar place for him; she had often seen him in such a state. Typically, she believed, it was to avoid conversation with those he felt beneath him. But now he seemed to use it as an escape from her questions. "Do you not think I have asked myself the same question?" His back was to her, but she heard the strain in his voice. "If I could but turn back time, I would never have gone to check on our tenants. I never would have put that blasted idea in your mind to ride one of the horses." He spoke more to himself than to her, but at last he turned to look at her again. "Though I abhor my own deficiencies, I praise God for your life, Elizabeth. I know it might have been much worse."

Elizabeth held his gaze. Last night, he had spoken words of love. Now, he spoke of his concern for her life and his desire to be a protector of it. She had a thousand unanswered questions, but in this moment she felt safe for the first time in Mr. Darcy's presence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again! I must apologize, again, for my long absense. I'm coming to accept that I may just post on here irregularly. But I do enjoy this story, and lately new ideas have come to me. I'm sorry for the long absense! I have ideas for the next chapter already, so I hope it will not be long in coming. Althought Christmas is nearly here, so who knows how busy life will become!**

 **Enjoy, and remember, I am not Jane Austen.**

Doctor Leeson arrived shortly after the midwife had gone, but his visit was brief. He had very little additional advice to offer regarding Elizabeth's health and memory. He affirmed the midwife's conclusion that she appeared to be as well as could be expected, though her mind would take its own time to heal.

Mr. Darcy remained in the room for his visit, hopeful to have more advice than what the doctor supplied. As Dr. Leeson gathered his things and stood, Mr. Darcy spoke. "Surely, doctor, there must be something we can do to regain her memory."

Dr. Leeson paused, "There are some progressive doctors in London who might offer new, though untested, forms of treatment. However, in your wife's condition, I would not recommend it. The strain, alone, of traveling to London may be too much for her, not to mention for the child. I believe the best course of action is to wait. If Mrs. Darcy's memory still fails her after her confinement, perhaps you may go to London for further treatment."

"Thank you, sir." Elizabeth said quietly, nodding to him as he took his leave of them.

Mr. Darcy remained, silent, but his eyes were fixed on her.

"What is it, Mr. Darcy? Why must you insist on staring?" Elizabeth rose her eyebrows, waiting expectantly for his reply.

"I do not stare to disturb your comfort, Mrs. Darcy." A smile tugged his lips upward.

"Ah, but you must insist on using my correct title which does disturb my comfort." Lizzy teased him, though it was true that hearing her married name discomfited her.

"I was thinking of how selfish I am." He moved to sit next to her, leaning back on the sofa.

Lizzy had often thought Mr. Darcy to be a very selfish man, full of pride and conceit, a man who always got what he desired. But to hear his own admission of selfish behavior was jarring. "What do you mean?"

Darcy cleared his throat. "I mean that when the doctor was speaking of those treatments in London, I wanted to ignore his advice that we wait until the babe has arrived. Yet I realize I would be risking your health, and the health of our own son. For that thought alone, I must truly be a selfish man."

Those eyes. His dark, piercing eyes which would not leave her face when he spoke his most intimate thoughts to her. A proud, arrogant man who spoke of _feelings_ to her? Lizzy didn't know how to respond, so she did what she usually resorted to in such situations and teased him. "A son? What makes you so sure this child will be a son? I am afraid you married from the wrong family if you hoped for a boy."

His sudden laugh was almost more startling than his gaze. A deep, melodious laugh she had never heard from him before. "That sounds more like the Elizabeth I know. You have been determined that this one is a girl, but I must maintain it is a boy. Sons are far easier to manage than daughters."

"I hope you eat your words when my daughter is born." Lizzy didn't truly have a sense that her baby was a boy or girl, but she felt comfortable arguing with him. This was something which she had done with him since nearly their first encounter.

She jumped when she felt him slip his hand over hers. "We shall see, my dear wife. I am convinced one of us has the right of it."

It was quiet between them for a several minutes while Lizzy allowed his hand to stay where it lay on hers. It was an unusual feeling, the physical contact between her and this man she knew so little. Yet there was an ease of familiarity that she could not explain, and her husband seemed to find it quite natural. "Mr. Darcy, I need to know what happened between us. What exactly transpired that day when I was staying with Charlotte? How did this marriage truly come about?"

His grip on her hand tightened, "I will answer any questions you have. I apologize for last evening. I'm afraid I was not eloquent in how I shared our history."

"Truly, my head was spinning. But now that it is calm and the doctor himself assured you I am well, please, tell me."

"I was attracted to you nearly from the first moment I laid eyes on you." He took a slow calming breath, remembering the details their history.

"I know that is not true." Lizzy interrupted. "The first day I met you, I overheard you tell Bingley you thought I was—"

Darcy interrupted, "That declaration must be the worst of my crimes in your estimation. Yes, I uttered a horrid comment that you were tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. Regret for those words still plagues me on occasion. Of course, I had barely looked at you when I said it."

Lizzy's eyebrows rose, "Of course you looked at me, or why else would you make such a statement?"

"I wasn't interested in dancing with anyone, Elizabeth. It wouldn't have mattered who you were, I was determined to be disagreeable."

It was on the tip of Lizzy's tongue to agree with him, but he seemed to read her mind.

"I know you thought me to be always disagreeable. Your time at Netherfield while you cared for Jane softened my heart toward you. I had thought you argued with me to flirt, and I was intrigued. No woman had ever dared have a differing opinion than mine before. You have always been full of wit, and I enjoyed disagreeing with you because it meant I could watch your eyes sparkle. I began falling in love with you during that stay, I am sure of it. When I left Hertfordshire with Bingley after the ball, I was determined to forget you."

"I had no idea you thought so well of me! I was most decidedly not trying to flirt with you." Lizzy declared, snatching her hand from his. Despite his words of admiration, she was startled that he had interpreted her behavior so differently than how she intended it. She had meant to be impertinent, not flirtatious.

It was astonishing to think she could have been so misunderstood. Charlotte had once observed that Jane should show more interest in Bingley than what she felt, rather than hide her feelings. Elizabeth now thought that maybe she, too, had hid her feelings too well. Though in a different way than Jane, for it was feelings of dislike bordering on contempt that she had hidden from Mr. Darcy.

"I was wrong to think that leaving you behind in Hertfordshire would diminish my thoughts of you. Daily I wondered what you were doing, if perhaps some other gentlemen had caught your attention. When I heard my aunt's parson was married to a country lady from Hertfordshire, I was afraid I had missed my chance."

Lizzy's eyebrows rose, "You thought I would accept that ridiculous man?"

"I thought you might see sense in securing your family's future, though I myself held no respect for the man." When he referred to her cousin, Lizzy could hear the contempt in his voice. But she stayed silent, though he paused as if waiting for her to say something more to him. "We walked often together when you stayed with your friend, Mrs. Collins. You told me where you liked to walk. I thought it was an invitation to join you. Do you remember those daily walks?"

"Yes, but I told you where I liked to walk so you could stay away. I thought… well, I thought you did not want to be in my company." Lizzy stood up, moving away from the man who had brought so much confusion into her life. She moved to the window, her eyes finding their way to a garden path below.

"I now know you had no notion of my interest in you." He hadn't followed her to the window. Instead, he kept his place on the sofa, leaning his shoulders forward to rest his arms on his legs. "As it neared the time for my removal from Kent, I felt I must declare myself. The thought of leaving once again without having spoken of my attachment to you felt like an impossibility. One night, you stayed behind while the Collins' came to dine at Rosings. I took the opportunity to go to you, to tell you I love you and could not bear to think of a life without you."

"I am not altogether shocked by your words, for you spent last evening telling me of your love and I bear the proof of your desire." Her hand rested on her protruding abdomen. "Yet, I do feel surprised and I know I must have been quite shocked to hear such a declaration. Last night, you told me that I declared you would be the last man in the world I would marry. How then did you convince me to accept your proposal?"

"It took months before I had the courage to ask you a second time. You had two main objections to my suit. The first, my history with George Wickham. And the second, my interference in Bingley's pursuit of your sister. Before I left Rosings, I wrote you a letter to explain my actions in both affairs."

Lizzy did not know the extent of Darcy's meddling in Bingley's life, but she had long suspected his influence over the amiable man. The mention of Wickham's name might have roused more of her anger, though his words from the night before came drifting back.

 _I never treated Wickham in a dishonorable way. In fact, I made him to marry your sister Lydia after she ran off with him._

"This letter… might I read it?" Elizabeth turned back to look at him.

"I'm afraid you destroyed it. As I said last night, you have always told me we ought only think of the past as it gives us pleasure. I assure you, that letter brought pleasure to neither one of us." He slowly stood, walking towards the window to stand beside her. "It is difficult to remember how I `acted then, how you must view me now."

"I have very little choice but to view you with respect as my husband. Though I do not understand myself, to know why I would decide to marry a man who ruined the chances of my sister's happiness."

"Jane is married to Bingley now, so I hope you might pardon me of that offense."

"What? How did this come to be?" Lizzy put her hand to her mouth. "Oh Jane! If only I could be with her now. How happy she must be!"

"Yes, my understanding from your correspondence with her is that she is very satisfied with her position as Mrs. Bingley. She, also, is increasing. They expect the babe any day now. Bingley is a poor letter writer, though what he does write is all happiness."

Elizabeth put a hand to her abdomen, holding onto her own child as she thought of Jane's baby. How close their children would be! She was to become a mother and an aunt within the span of a few months. "Oh, I must write to Jane! Yesterday, all I could wish for was her presence here. I still wish it, though now I understand why she cannot be asked to come stay. She must mind her own health."

"Yes, she must. Though I am sure we will receive the Bingleys for a visit, perhaps before your own confinement is complete." His words were softly spoken, but they caused a lump to form in Lizzy's throat. She couldn't dwell on thoughts of her own confinement. The experience itself terrified her, though Lizzy never backed down from a challenge. She only hoped she would face it and come out healthy and whole.

A knock sounded on the door, interrupting her anxious thoughts.

"Come." Darcy answered for her.

A maid slipped into the room, holding a note in her hand. "An express has just arrived for you, sir."

Mr. Darcy took note of the handwriting, and smiled at his wife. "Speaking of Bingley, he has just written." He quickly unfolded the paper to read the quickly scribbled words on the inside. His smile ebbed away as he read, and his face was quite stoic by the time he had finished reading. He looked up to Elizabeth. She was unsure if she had ever seen him look so. Her heart lurched, not prepared for what he would tell her.

"Jane has just had the babe. He was born without a sound, and died within the hour. They will lay him in his grave tomorrow."

Grief choked Lizzy, and she stumbled forward. Mr. Darcy caught her in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! What did I say about making posts which are few and far between? I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I need to get some other things done today so I thought I would just post a short one and use what I have started next for chapter five. Sorry for the delay. Thank you for all the positive reviews! I would love your thoughts, suggestions, ideas. And even criticisms can be helpful, just please give them kindly! I hope everyone is doing well amid the COVID-19 craziness.**

 **Remember, I am not Jane Austen!**

A light rain had begun to fall, but it did not tempt Elizabeth to run inside. The wet drops on her face satisfied her as an extension of the grief she felt within. Up and down, she walked the main path of the garden- the very one she had viewed from her private sitting room. Her first desire had been to roam the woods at Pemberly, to get lost in them instead of her own thoughts. She was not made for inactivity, and she could not lie about with such sorrow seeking to strangle her. She had told Mr. Darcy as much, but he had most vocally rejected the idea by demanding she not leave the house. He had implored her to take care, thinking of the child if she wouldn't think of her own health.

She compromised by suggesting a walk in the garden instead. He did not seem pleased with the idea, but had agreed to her request with the obvious intention of joining her. She refused to allow him, though even now she suspected he watched her from one of the many windows above.

Lizzy was not used to this feeling of grief. She had always claimed she was not made for melancholy, instead choosing to laugh in spite of life's challenges. But she had never before had someone so close to her suffer the loss of life. Jane. Her beloved sister. In her mind's eye, Lizzy could picture Jane holding the tiny baby, stroking his soft hair or kissing his rounded cheeks. That image was much more lovely than the thought of Jane, stricken by grief, curled over a gravestone.

Her pace quickened as she changed direction when she came to the end of the path. Back and forth she walked as the rain fell harder. _Why_ must Jane suffer? Pure, sweet, lovely Jane who believed the best of everyone. Why couldn't she have her child healthy and whole and _alive_? Elizabeth would give anything, even the health of her own child so that Jane's son might be well.

Guilt pricked her conscience at the despicable thought. How could she offer her own child, _Mr. Darcy's child_ , in exchange for her sister? The strength began to seep from her at the thought. She allowed herself to settle on a nearby bench, her shoulders slumping forward. She hated to be so far from Jane, instead staying in a strange house with a man she hardly knew or liked. But what could she do? She would walk for miles just to get to Jane if she could. Through every field until much more than her petticoat was caked in mud.

The idea held promise. Perhaps she could go to Jane. She wouldn't walk for miles through the mud, but take a carriage. Someone's words pushed into her thoughts. She couldn't quite decide who had said them exactly, but they tickled her mind like a memory. Blowing out a breath, she forced her shoulders to straighten. Resolve grew within her as she rose, turning back toward the house.

* * *

 _And what is fifty miles of good road?_

"Absolutely not." Mr. Darcy would hardly let her finish.

"Please, I _must_ see Jane. You have been quite kind to me since the accident, but I hardly know you. Jane must be grieving—"

"She has Bingley to comfort her." His gruff response did not engender feelings of goodwill from Elizabeth.

She must press her point, not willing to give up the idea once it had taken hold. "He also is grieving, therefore we must both go to them, to bring them comfort. Please, at least consider—"

"I most certainly will not consider it. I have much sympathy for your sister, Elizabeth, but you are only just beginning to recover. The travel itself may prove too much for you. It was only this morning that Leeson advised against any traveling until after your confinement."

"To be with Jane again would do me a wealth of good! Please, Mr. Darcy, can not you see how I must go?" Her eyes begin to fill with tears of their own accord. She was not fabricating emotion, creating a scene to gain his sympathy and agreement. Her eyes burned as she tried to hold them back, but a sob broke out unintentionally.

Mr Darcy's eyes softened before he reached for her. "Oh, Elizabeth." He pulled her into his embrace. One hand pulled her head to rest on his shoulder, the other soothingly ran up and down her back. She had not expected the near proximity to Mr. Darcy to be anything other than disconcerting, but she found herself relaxing in his arms. It felt strange, to be sure, being held by any man who was not her father. While the night before she had bristled at his touch, now she was grateful for his willingness to comfort her. She needed the solace of human touch.

After a few choking sobs, Lizzy caught her breath again. Pulling back a little, she looked up to meet his gaze. "Please, Mr. Darcy. Please, you must allow me to go to her."

"I cannot allow it. I would do anything for your comfort, Elizabeth. But I cannot put you at risk while doing so. You can write Jane a letter, express your sympathy and care of her." He went quiet, understanding the suggestion was not at all what she desired.

"A letter?" Elizabeth spat, pushing herself out of his arms. "What good is a letter to Jane when she is broken-hearted from grief? A letter cannot bring her the tender care of a sister. A letter cannot provide a loving embrace. Honestly, Mr. Darcy, it is worth nothing at all if I cannot go to her!"

"It is worth a great deal." Though her voice had been raised, his voice was low and calm. "Jane would not wish for you to put a strain upon yourself and your own child by making such a journey."

Elizabeth heaved a sigh. The man must be more stubborn than she was. "Please direct me to my room. I should like to rest." Rather, she would like a reprieve from arguing with him when he was so unwilling to consider her request.

He nodded, turning to guide her from the library towards her own room. When they reached her room, he opened the door to allow her entrance. Much to her dismay, he followed her inside. Before she could comment on the disturbance of her privacy, he walked directly toward a small writing desk which sat in the corner of the bedchamber. He reached for a small stack of letters, glanced over their writing, then brought them to her. "Perhaps you would like to read some of your recent correspondence. Then you might consider the impact of a letter to Jane." He slipped the pages into her hands, then swiftly left her standing in the middle of her room without an easy response on her lips.

Her fingers traced the letters in her name which Jane had penned. _Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy_. It was a strange sensation, to hold in her hand a letter addressed to her new name. The stack of letters suggested she and Jane were frequent correspondents, which made perfect sense to her. If she could not live close to her sister, she would be always writing letters to her.

Lizzy moved over the window seat she had occupied the day before. Curling her legs under her, she opened the top letter.

 _My dearest Lizzy,_

 _Next month, Mr. Bingley and I shall celebrate one year of marriage. How it has already been so long is beyond my imagining. The days have been precious to me, as you know I had one not thought this marriage would come about. Sometimes I think of your husband, of the way he humbly confessed to mine the part he played in separating us. Those days of wondering and waiting are over now, but I do not know if they would have ever ended had your husband not said what he did to Mr. Bingley._

What was this Jane mentioned? Mr. Darcy was responsible for separating Jane and Bingley? Of course, Elizabeth had considered the impact he would have in discouraging his friend from making the match. Earlier in the day, Lizzy might have thrown the letter down and went to confront Mr. Darcy directly. As it was, the sorrow of knowing her sister's child was lost kept her from acting rashly. The anger she felt toward the knowledge of his interference did not incite the full breadth of anger it might have had she not suffered under the weight of grief.

 _This is only speculation, my dear sister, for perhaps my husband would have sought me out when you married Mr. Darcy. Yet, I cannot think of how you might have met him again had he not accompanied Mr. B to Netherfield. You see, it is all dependent upon one another. I shall leave these pondering thoughts here, and simply be grateful for the happiness I now share with Mr. B. And to think, we will be celebrating our anniversary with the birth of our first child._

Tears pricked Elizabeth's eyes. This time, in the privacy of her own room, she did not try to stop the tears. Jane was so happy in this letter, so eager to meet the baby.

 _Our anticipation grows daily for the arrival of your niece or nephew. You asked so I will tell you honestly. I greatly desire your presence when the time for my confinement arrives. Yet, I do not imagine your Mr. D would think kindly on the idea of traveling with you preparing for the birth of your own child. Perhaps I am wrong, for you do have a way of pressing your point. But please, Lizzy, do not press your husband on my account. Mama will arrive in a sennight and she will be with me through it all. You shall meet the newest member of the family when Mr. B and I come to Pemberly to meet your daughter, or son as you say Mr. D insists on._

Lizzy put the letter down. She couldn't read anymore, and she still did not know how she might reply to such a letter when Jane must now be in the arms of sorrow. There was a feeling within her which was not sorrow, but which had accompanied the news of her nephew's death. She could not yet put a name to what it was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again! The shortest hiatus between chapters, right? Well, I hope you enjoy. As I was writing, I realized there might be a small flaw in the plot. But I am writing as I go, so the story just forms. Hopefully when it reaches its destination, I can edit and fix any issues with the plotline.**

 **Thank you for sticking with me! I have ideas for the next chapter but cannot promise when it will come.**

 **As always, I am note Jane Austen.**

Morning came sooner than Lizzy would have liked. She laid in bed as the sun rose, watching the colors in the sky change as the morning grew later. Her baby moved within, kicking feet into her ribs leaving her a bit breathless with the movement. Though she wished to think of something else, she could not escape the reality that in less than two months she would be mother to a child. It was beyond belief, yet every kick, turn and movement the child made reminded her of the truth.

What kind of mother would she be? What kind of mother feels indifferent toward the child growing within her? In her mind, Lizzy understood it to be a normal response to her circumstances yet there was still an element of guilt that pricked her conscience. She pushed thoughts of herself away and let her mind turn to the child's father.

What sort of father Mr. Darcy would make? He had always been so severe in company, and his eyes always bore into her when she was in a room with him. Of course, until she had awoken in the Mistresses chambers at Pemberly, she had thought it to be censure which he felt toward her. The idea that he desired her, and even more _loved her_ , could hardly be accounted for. Would he be kind and gentle with their child, or demanding and firm?

Lizzy mildly wondered if perhaps he could be both. Though she had always prided herself on her superior ability to assess the character of others, she had clearly assessed wrongly when she looked at Mr. Darcy. What was Mr. Darcy's true character?

The knock at her door tore her away from such thoughts. "You may enter." Lizzy called, pushing herself up to sitting in the bed. Baxter entered, immediately offering to help her dress for the day. Lizzy agreed and began her third day as Mrs. Darcy.

* * *

The days which followed the dreaded express were quiet. Lizzy went through the motions each day: eating her meals, taking a turn through the garden, retiring to her room for a rest. It was as if she walked through a heavy fog, everything around her appeared uncertain and unclear.

Mr. Darcy was ever present, his brow creased in concern, though often silent for he did not appear to know how to help her. Grief was also ever present, yes, as she considered her dearest sister losing her first son. The sorrow she must feel over it, and the nagging idea that perhaps the same would happen to Elizabeth. But more than the grief was the ambiguity that came with the fog which surrounded her mind and feelings.

Her letters from Jane sat in a stack on her desk. She couldn't bring herself to read through them. Though Mr. Darcy clearly thought they would help her, she still had not come to terms with her present situation. And ready Jane's happy voice through her letter did nothing to bring Lizzy peace as she thought of her sister's present situation.

None of her memories returned, though her headaches diminished. She noticed her abdomen would often get tight and hard, making the task of moving about all the more difficult. The discomfort came in fits with no obvious cause. She didn't have the energy to return to the conversation she had begun with Darcy when she first awoke. Though she still wanted the details of how he had separated Bingley from Jane, or to know about Wickham and her sister Lydia, the importance had drifted away, leaving her in a state of relative apathy.

On the fifth day, Lizzy wandered into the drawing room where Georgianna's beautiful pianoforte stood. Darcy had spoken in passing about his sister, a forlorn smile on his face as he told her what good friends they had become. Georgianna was away visiting with her aunt and uncle, but had written in response to Darcy's recent letter about Lizzy, asking him if she ought to return and offer her support. He wrote to tell her to wait until Lizzy's memory began returning. She wondered if that would ever happen.

Lizzy let her hand stroke the side of the pianoforte, then slowly trace over the keys. The last time she remembered playing was in Lady Catherine's house while Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy watched her play. She was out of practice even then, but she had enjoyed playing lighthearted songs as long as she was not expected to truly perform or outshine a rival, which was unlikely to happen.

Impulsively, she pulled out the bench and settled on it. It felt awkward, squeezing her baby up against the edge of the pianoforte so she could reach the keys. She chose an easy tune, one she had played many times at Longbourn. As her fingers stroked each note of her song, she let her eyes close.

She felt more like her old self if she kept her eyes shut and ignored the squirming life at her hips. She could almost hear her sisters squabbling in the background Lydia and Kitty arguing over something. She laughed softly to herself as she imagined what Mary might say, sternly scolding them for their unchristian behavior. Then there would be Jane, always the peacemaker, attempting to placate their sisters. Lizzy's mother would probably demand they stop fighting, begging relief of her nerves. Her father might steal away to his study with a smirk on his lips.

The image in her mind became so real to her that Lizzy startled when she heard the deep intonation of her husband's voice.

"It is good to hear you play again." He stood just inside the door, apparently having been watching as she played. Noticing her stop at his interruption, he quickly urged her, "Please do not stop on my account. I was simply surprised to hear you playing."

Lizzy slid out from behind the piano. "It is good for me to remember myself, who I am." She looked back longingly at the instrument, then met his eyes. "But my life has changed now."

Mr. Darcy moved forward, offering his arm. She slowly took it and allowed him to lead her over to the sofa. "I shall call for tea, Elizabeth."

Settling into her seat, she raised her shoulders in an indifferent shrug.

Mr. Darcy moved over to the bell to ring for the maid, making the decision for her. She had noticed he would do that often. He was sought to make decisions for her that were to her benefit. Since she had so little opinion over whether or not she would like tea, it did not much matter to her. If he had tried to make a decision she did not agree with, it irritated her. Like his firm, unmoveable position on her proposition to travel to the Bingleys.

They sat in silence for a stretch, Mr. Darcy's eyes on her as they usually were when they shared a room. She picked at the fabric in her dress, seeing that it may need let out again. She felt the familiar tightness in her belly.

"Elizabeth, I worry for you."

She lifted her eyes to his, but didn't respond.

"You do not appear to be yourself."

"It is difficult to know how I ought to act when I do not remember my life as mistress of this home. I do not know what I should do." She dropped her eyes from his, in the hope he might drop the subject.

"You have always been lively. I know you must suffer with Jane's news. Yet I have to wonder there is something deeper you have not shared with me."

"Mmmmm." She murmured. He was right about her. She wasn't acting her normal self, even for the person she was as Miss Bennet. Jane's loss had shocked her, but there was something else she had not wanted to dwell on. Yet it seemed Mr. Darcy might know her better than she would have thought, and he had no intention of letting the conversation stop.

"You won't grant me a response?" His hand reached out to grab hers.

The touch startled her. He had barely touched her since the first night she ate dinner with him. He kept a respectful distance, and no longer entered her private room. Now the large hand holding hers made her realize how much she craved affectionate touch. "I do not even know you, sir."

Mr. Darcy nodded, his hand tightening around hers. "I know. And I wish I could change that for you. But you have not even made an attempt to know me."

She met his gaze. "You are right, I have been too shocked by other considerations to put much into knowing you beyond what I learned of you during your time in Hertfordshire."

"Are you scared, Elizabeth?" His thumb stroked her hand.

She pulled back. "I am scared of very little."

"You once told me your courage rises with ever attempt to intimidate you. I sense your sister's loss has made you fear what will happen to you when your own time comes."

They were both quiet for a minute. That passed into two minutes, then three.

Mr. Darcy spoke again, assuming she was unwilling to share her deeper thoughts with him. "I promise you-"

She cut him off. "You cannot promise me anything. You should know as well as I that there are no guarantees. My mother bore us five girls, but I never spoke to her of any losses. And now Jane…"

"Jane is different from you." Darcy observed.

"What do you mean, that she is meek and mild mannered so perhaps she is not strong enough to bear a healthy child?" Lizzy's words were not angry, rather they were sober.

"No, I simply mean that you will not face the same circumstances as her."

Lizzy didn't answer him that.

"If you desire some connection with yourself before this injury, you must know you were scared even then. You did not like to speak of it because you assumed I would worry too much, but we did speak of it at length."

The knowledge that she was afraid even before Jane's confinement did not bring comfort. Instead, it brought a great swell of emotion over her. "I _am_ afraid, Mr. Darcy. I wish I wasn't. I wish I could face it without a care, and truly be intimidated by nothing. And I worry that I _will_ lose this baby too." Her eyes couldn't focus on his face while she shared her intimate thoughts, the ones she did not want to dwell on.

"Why do you believe our child will die?" Mr. Darcy's words were strained.

"Because in my weakest moment, when I first heart Jane's son died, I thought to myself… I thought, I wish my baby had died instead." Her tortured eyes met his. "What if…" A sob erupted from her throat. "if my wish…" She choked. "if it comes true?" She fell forward over her knees, letting the tears roll down.

Darcy reached for her and gently pulled her against his chest. If felt strange to be held by a man, any man other than her father. Yet she did feel comfort from his arms, and she let the full breadth of her sorrow and fear mingling together pour out through her tears.

Perhaps she would have stayed in his arms longer, even after the tears had passed, if a footman hadn't come rushing into the room. Lizzy pulled herself away from him as the man entered, bowed, and presented an envelope. "For Mrs. Darcy."

With shaking hands, she reached forward to take the note. She did not recognize the handwriting, with an elegantly written _Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy_ on the top. Unfolding it, she read the note quickly. It was brief and took only a minute. Her brow furrowed, confusion setting in.

"What is it?" Mr. Darcy asked her, concern in his voice.

"I don't know. Read it." She pushed the note into his hand.

 _Mrs. Darcy,_

 _I apologize at taking the liberty to again address you when I have never received a proper introduction, but I must urge you to act immediately. The situation which I previously wrote about has only worsened. I fear for his life and do not know where else to turn. Please, if you could do anything to alleviate his suffering, do it out of the goodness of your heart, for I know his parents certainly do not deserve it._

 _I cannot afford a physician, or else I would write what news he might give._

 _Again, I urge you, please send us a physician or some way to pay for one._

 _Yours faithfully,_

 _ERM_


End file.
